A SUMMER ROMANCE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XI, Issue 32, 12 August 1893, Page 88

A SUMMER ROMANCE.

IBy

'DUM SPIRO, SPERO.')

CHAPTER J. *T is such a glorious country our New Zealand, with its noble mountains and rivers, its grassy plains and fern clad gullies, and the fresh pure air everywhere. Pessimists may howl and prophesy in their own dii agreeable manner, but, when once all our land is fully opened up, and all the fertility of the soil, and beauty of the scenery is made known, 1 defy anyone to find a more encouraging quarter of the globe. In the meantime let us all help in the nob'e woi k of self-improve-ment and refrain from abusing the land in which our lot is cast. It was a bright lovely day in the middle of January, just the time calculated to make a ‘ globe trotter’ vow that New Zealand was an earthly paradise ; just the time when those people who can afford it desert the towns and betake themselves up country, which may be mountainous or fiat, bit always beautiful. On the morning on which my story opens, old Burnett, of ‘Barnett’s Run,’ just out of Wanganui, was seated on his verandah smoking his early morning pipe. An evidently serious undertaking to judge by the expression of his face, but old Burnett always had a solemn, quiet way with him. People said that was what made him get on so well, and in feed the comfortable looking, long, low house behind him an 1 the acres of paddock disappearing into a line of bush on either side of him would seem to verify their statement. Presently Burnett was loused from his meditations by a fresh, clear voice calling out, ‘ Father, where are you V * Heie on the verandah, Madge. What’s the matter?' For answer a young girl of about twenty years of age, rather tall, with bright blue eyes and brown hair tinged with gold, came out to him, saying, ‘ Dick has just ridden over from the Harrison’s, and he wants to see you for a minute.’

■Oh ! Dick has ridden over, has he ?’ queried Burnett, with a keen look at his daughter, whose cheeks flashed just the smallest degree in the world. ‘All light, I’il come round and see him,’ and rising up he made his way round the tide of the house to a large white gate which led into a side avenue or drive. This mode of entrance was used only by the Burnetts and their intimate friends. Dick Harrison was evidently included amongst the latter as he sat there on his horse chatting to Mrs Burnett across the railing. He was a fine-looking young fellow of about twenty-five, with brown curly hair and honest blue eyes. • Good-morning, Mr Burnett,’ he said as that gentleman appeared. ‘My father wants to know if you can come over and look at that mob of sheep this morning instead of this afternoon. There’s a new chum coming up to us then, and the pater wants to be st home when he comes.’ ‘ A new chum, eh ? what’s his name ?’ ‘ Arthur Clifford. He’s only j ist come out here. Father met him down in Wellington last December. He said he wanted to farm for a bit to see what it was really like, and the long and short of it was that the pater invited him to come up and try his hand with us for a while.’ ‘ Oh, 1 wonder what sort of “ hand ” that will prove,’ returned Mr Burnett, half-smiling, * and in the meantime I will saddle the mare and be with you in a “ jiffy,” ’ and he went off.

• We have not had a stranger up here for some time,’ remarked Mrs Burnett. ‘ I wonder what this Mr Clifford is like ?’

* Oh, you’ll soon see for yourselves,’ rejoined Dick. ‘ I’ll bring him over to-morrow if you like ?’ ‘ Do,’ said Mrs Burnett, ‘ come to dinner, both of you.’

Here Mr Burnett appeared on horseback beside Dick, and in a minute the two were cantering dow n the avenue. A pretty one it was, bordered on either side by huge Norfolk pines, which in the warm sunny weather gave out a sweet fresh scent. Mrs Barnett and her daughter stood at the gate, watching them till they were out of sight, and then they returned inside the house. It being the way of the world to discuss people when their hicks aie turned, I may as well follow the fashion and tell you that Madge was the only daughter, indeed, the only child of the Burnetts, who had been living in this spot for nearly thirty years. She was a bright, affectionate girl, pretty beyond doubt, well read, and when she sang her voice was soft and sweet.

The Burnetts nearest neighbours were the Harrisons—father and son—who had a farm of nine hundred acres some seven or eight miles away. Madge Burnett and Dick Harrison had grown up together. Mr Harrison’s wife had died when Dick was but eight years old, so the widower was therefore only too glad to be able to send his only child as often as possible over to Mrs Burnett with her motherly care. As both children grew up into manhood and girlhood, respectively, it was soon evident that Dick was only waiting for a suitable time when he should declare himself to Madge as her lover. The Burnetts were not blind to this fact, and, though they would have liked Madge to see more of the world before making the most important decision in her life, still they would not destroy their daughter’s affection for an honest man, and as for money—well, that was all right, they would both be well enough off However, nothing had really been sa'd, and, though Dick always understood Madge to be very fond of him, still he thought it better to wait. Another long, hot summers nay was nearly over, and Madge stood in their long, cool dining-room ananging pink and white loses on the dinner table. Veiy sweet she looked in a soft creamy gown with mill is at her neck and wrists. * A man from England is always a quiz,’ she soliloquised, as she arranged a vase. *He seems to ba on the lookout for something peculiar to happen all the time ! I wonder what Mt Clifford is like. 1 wonder if—’ But here she was

_A_ NEW ZZEA JL TST ZD STOZR.'Y.

aroused by the sound of horses’ hoofs on the front drive, and looking through the French window she saw two horsemen coming towards the bouse, whom she knew must be Dick with Mr Arthur Clifford. They soon alighted at the verandah steps, and Mrs Buine.tand Madge went out to meet them.

‘ I brought Mr Clifford through the front entrance gate as 1 wanted him to be fully impressed with the property,’ announced Dick. Then, as Mrs Burnett came forward, * Mrs Burnett, Mr Clifford ; Miss Burnett, Mr Clifford.’ Madge shook hands, and looking up met the direct glance of two very dark eyes. The owner was tall, with dark hair and well cut features. This was all she had time to see before Mr Buinett appeared, and in half an hour they were all seated at dinner.

Dick’s * new chum ’ was certainly very well informed on all points, including farming, and after dinner when they were having music in the drawing room sang a couple of songs in a pure tenor voice. He seemed to be very fond of music and literature, and Madge recognising a kindred spirit enjoved his conversation very much indeed ; so much so that when the time came for Dick and his new friend to leave she felt as if she had known Arthur Clifford for years. ‘ We shall see you often over here, I hope,’ said Mrs Burnett in her hospitable manner as she hade him good-bye, to which remark Clifford absented at once, * but I must not turn into a loafer !’ he laughed, as he sprang into his saddle. ‘ I am going to work,’ and in five minutes was gone. CHAPTER 11. It did not, indeed, seem to require much urging to bring Arthur Cliffoid over to Barnett’s Ran, as the place was familiarly called. Somehow or other Madge Burnett had attracted him in a way that no other girl had done before. Her freshness, her original way of looking at things in general, to say nothing of her undoubtedly pretty face, had exercised a powerful charm upon him. Bat Clifford had been suddenly awakened to the fact that he was not the only worshipper at Madge’s shrine by the following small incident, tine day they had been playing tennis at the Buinetts—Dick and Cliffoid, Madge and the Leslies, from the other side of the river. They were all going up to the house for tea when Clifford saw Dick stoop to the ground and hurriedly pick up something. Arthur recognised a little bunch of tea-roses which Madge had worn. He saw Dick put them carefully in bis pocket, and felt rather jealous accordingly. After that afternoon he watched and discovered that, though Madge did not, as far as he could see, reciprocate, at all events Dick Harrison was madly in love with her. As for Dick himself, he could not shut his eyes to the fact that Madge seemed to attract Clifford, but he did not know that he really loved her till about a month afterward. One fine evening Madge, Dick, and Aithur had gone for a ride. It was the most perfect time of the day. The excessive heat was gradually lessening, bat the sun still showed by glorious crimson and golden rays that he had not long departed. Madge was in high spirits. ‘ We must come back by Kowhai Creek,’ she said, ‘it looks so lovely by moonlight, doesn’t it Dick ?’ Oh yes, Dick knew. He said nothing, but thought of a time, two oi three years ago, when he and Madge had ridden there together, and she in a burst of confidence had told him all her girlish thoughts on certain subjects to which he had listened with an almost reverential delight, and now—but Madge went on speaking. ‘ You must really see Kowhai Creek, Mr Clifford. lam so glad it is on our property. Everyone is jealous of it,’ and she laughed. They had been riding for some time now, and soon Dick said, * The moon will be up in half an hour, so we had better rest a bit here and then turn on to the Kowhai Creek track.’

The others assented, and dismounting they sat down on some fallen tree trunks, ear old totaras which had once raised their heads up into the blue sky as proudly as any of the standing bush. Clifford talked of England and Madge asked questions, and Dick listened to both, wondering. The half-hour sped by rapidly, and soon all three were leaving the good road with patches of bush on either side, for a narrower sidetrack with dense clumps of the Kowhai all round. The way became steeper and rocky. ‘There now, Mr Clifford, look down to your left,’ exclaimed Madge. ‘ How good of the lady moon to shine so biightly.’

Clifford looked down as directed, and certainly the sight that met his eyes deserved admiration. A rather large creek rippled softly over its stony bed. From either bank tall trees shot up into the clear sky. Tree-ferns thickly populated the slope to the water, whilst ferns and creepers luxuriantly entangled moss - covered roots. The moon looked through the interlacing boughs overhead and touched the stream with silvery brightness. Half way across the water lay an old tree-trunk covered with fern and moss, on which a strange native bird was perched. The night was very still, and nothing was heard but the slight splash as the water fell over the boulders.

Presently Madge spoke. The bird, startled at the sound of a voice, flaw away into the protecting bush. • This is worth while coming to see, is it not, Mr Clifford ?’ •You are right,’he answered, ‘yet beautiful as it is it makes me fee) sad.’

‘ Then we shall leave it at once I’ the girl said lightly, and turning her horse she rode off and the two men followed her.

They were riding swiftly now and had leturned to the road, when suddenly Madge exclaimed, • Why, I’ve dropped my whip ! What a pity ! I wouldn’t have lost it for anything. Monarch goes so well that I really hardly ever use it; but father gave me that whip with my initials engraved on it five years ago, and I don’t want to lose it. I know I had it in my hand down by the creek.*

* Then I'll go back and look for it,’ said Dick. ‘No, I’ll go!’ from Arthur.

‘Oh, we’ll all go,'said Madge, and back they went. ‘l’ll tell you what, Dick,’ Madge said, ‘l’ll go down to the creek and look there, and you and Mr Clifford can have a hunt about here,’ and before they could say anything she had gone. Down the path she cantered quickly, dismounted, and walked slowly about with her eyes on the giound. She looked over the edge of the creek bank and something shining caught her eye. It was the silver handle of her whip caught in a root down near the water. • Oh, dear !’ she murmured, ‘ right down there !’ However, climbing down a steep bank did not trouble her much, and she was soon at the bottom. Catching up the whip she was prepared to ascend when she was startled by a rustle in the bushes quite close to her. Before she had time to guess what it was a man had sprung out and seized her by the wrist. She at once recognised him as a • swagger,’ one of the few evils of this colony. With very few exceptions they are an idle, dishonest, loafing set.

• Give me what money you have,’ he whispered, hoarsely. ‘ Give it to me at once, or you’ll be sorry for it.’ ‘ I have nons with me,’ she faltered, and then the thought that Dick and Arthur were not very far off gave her courage, and she said, bravely, ‘ How dare you attack me like this ? I tell you I have no money with me !’ ‘ Then I’ll take what 1 can get. I’ll have this, anyhow,’ and the man threw his aim round her and tried to snatch away a gold brooch that shone at her neck. At this insult Madge screamed aloud, and her cry reached the ears of Dick and Arthur, who were already earning to meet her.

‘ Madge in trouble,’ simultaneously escaped from the lips of the two men, and they galloped down the Kowhai track to Madge’s assistance. They found her pale and breathless climbing slowly up the bank. The ‘ swagger ’ hearing them coming, had fled rapidly. ‘ Madge !' exclaimed Arthur, dismounting at once and pressing to her side, ‘ What has happened ? Are you hurt?’ In his impetuous speech he had let fall her Christian name for the fiist time, to her face at all events, and Madge and Dick both noticed it. He, poor fellow, was burning with anxiety to know what had befallen her, but Arthur had been first.

Madge blushed deeply and hastily answered, ‘ Oh, I’m all right, thanks. I’ll tell you when we get home. Dick, will you mount me, please ?’ She turned away from Clifford in a hurried, nervous manner, which he noticed, and dreaded lest he should have offended her. Had he done so? or—did she love him? But they weie soon all riding hard home leaving Kowhai creek far behind them.

The next day Madge was naturally a little tired after the previous evening’s excitement, and did not see either Dick or Arthur when they rode over to inquire how she was. These two men had become great friends now, but each tried to hide from the other his great love for Madge Burnett. CHAPTER 111. The first week in March was always a gay time in Wanganui. It was then that the races took place to which all the world went. The Burnetts had determined to make up a party and go as usual. Their party consisted of themselves, the Harrisons, with Arthur Clifford and the Leslies. In spite of its being summer weather, some people of the name of Carson, living in the outskirts of Wanganui, had arranged to give a ball the night of the race day. To this ball were invited all our friends before mentioned, so there was another delight to look forward to. The weather was perfect andthe smart little racecourse looked in excellent condition, and as the first race was just about to take place the Burnetts and their party had only just time to secure places in the stand. Arther was soon initiated into the sins and mysteries of the totalisator, something quite new to him, and saying laughingly to Madge, ‘I must be off and mingle with the crowd to find out what animal to back for the Cup,’ departed down the steps on to the lawn in front.

A race-course is certainly the place for collecting people of all kinds. There is the usual betting and sporting fraternity who congregate in littte knots, and go in and out the saddling paddock compaiing notes; the burly bookmakers (they are nearly always stout), with huge cigar and rings on fingers ; then there is the gentleman who goes to races because he thinks it looks well, who dresses in tweeds, has a leather bag slung over his shoulder and delivers his opinions —borrowed—in a loud lone of voice for the benefit of the ignorant. We pass over the spieling fraternity as being too disagreeable to notice, and then we come to the ladies—the dear creatures who attend every race-meeting so regularly ! The man who gives advice and the man who won’t take it. All these people may be met with on any race-course you may attend. It was certainly a very lively scene, a human kaleidoscope, Madge thought. Presently above the talk and noise around her she heard a slight commotion in the direction of the totalisator. She looked across, but then the bell rang for the race of the day, and everyone leaned forwaid in breathless expectancy. Off they go ! Red, blue, yellow, green, purple, all in a clump at the beginning, but separating as the race goes on. Now they have reached the bend, now they are passing the willows, now those gum-trees. ‘ Cairngorm’s ahead !’ ‘ No ! Starlight leads !’ ‘ Lady Clare, Lady Clare !’ and then again, ‘ Cairngorm !’ and so on from differen t factions. But presently a sturdy chestnut that noone has noticed much conies quietly up, and is soon only half a length from the leader. • Why, Sultan ! Sultan 1’ And a great cry goes up of ‘ Sultan’s leading I Sultan’s ahead 1’ ‘ No Cairngorm !’_ ‘ No Sultan, Sultan ! Hurrah I’ and midst a roar of mingled joy, disappointment, and surprise the crowd flings itself on the winning post to find out more about this * outsider ’ who has won the Cup. Madge, as excited as anyone, leant over the railing, and soon saw Arthur Clifford coming towards her with a smiling face. • Well, you seem happy enough,’ she said, ‘happier than that poor fellow over there,' looking a few paces off, where a shabbily-diessed, Italian-lookiug man was standing, looking the pictuie of lage and baffled desire. ‘ Yes,’returned Clifford. •If looks could have killed that man would have slain me a little time ago !' ‘ What do you mean, Mr Clifford ?’ anxiously questioned Madge. ‘ Oh, well, it is not very much, but I’ll tell you if you like,’

be said, looking long at her pretty face flushed with excitement. ‘ From mere chance more than anything else I had decided to take a ticket on Sultan for the Cup. I asked Dick what he would do, and he said he preferred to back Cairngorm, and no one else would listen to me, so I was all by myself. I rushed over to the totalizator, and succeeded in placing my money just before the bell rang. Just behind me was that Italian chap, who, as far as I could make out, wanted to back Sultan too, but in the excitement of the moment I pushed hastily by him, and took my ticket first. Then the bell rang, and I really would not care to tell you, Miss Burnett, what language he used. Of course a twenty pound dividend would have been a haul to a fellow like that. I was really sori yhe did not get his chance. I’m afraid I lowered my-

self in the opinion of the other fellows by offering the Italian half-shares in my fortune, but he wouldn’t take it,’ concluded Clifford ruefully. ‘ That’s the worst of races,’ said Madge, impulsively. • They’re bound to hurt somebody. I can’t see why people can’t see a number of horses racing without wanting to risk their money on the result. But I’m sure no one would have been so good as you were over that dividend.’ ‘ You are very kind to say so,’ Arthur replied, secretly delighted, and then Dick and the Leslies came up, and the conversation became general. It was afternoon now, and Dick, approaching Madge, asked her if she would come with him to have some lea. She agreed at once, and they walked off together.

Arthur, who had been talking to one of the Leslie girls, watched them go across the lawn with a curious feeling at heart. In all his travels he had never seen a woman whom he loved like Madge, and never, for he had no brother, had he been drawn to a man as he had been to Dick Harrison, whose genuine good nature, and honest unsullied mind had appealed to him strongly. There they were, three people, and before many days were over one of them would have to suffer. As Arthur stood there a thought struck him. Suppose if he, Arthur Clifford, had never come to Wanganui, had never seen Burnett's Run at all, what would have happened ? Why, in the natural course of events Madge would have married Dick, and both would have been happy. Was it too late now? The idea of leaving Madge cut him to the heart. He was awakened

from his sad thoughts by a light remark from Dora Leslie, to which he had to reply as best he could, and tried to enter into the—to him utterly meaningless—conversation. In the meantime Dick and Madge were having afternoon tea together on the opposite side of the tiny lake at the side of the grand-stand. Madge felt that a change had taken place in her companion. She glanced up at him as he handed her tea and cake, but his face looked like that of a bronze statue, and his deep blue eyes met hers with just the slightest trace of reproach. Presently two pretty girls, with their mother evidently, entered the tent in search of tea. One of them catching sight of Dick, exclaimed to the other in a tone quite audible to Madge, * What a handsome man i’

' Yes,’ rejoined her companion, ‘ but rather too sad look ing ’

*S id looking!' the word struck Madge with dismay. •S id looking ?’ Bright, frank, handsome Dick. 'Debonair Dick !’ as her father used to call him, sad lo iking, and why had she not noticed it? Her conscience told her why. and as she sat there looking at him a great wave of pity and love swept through her heait. Dick, looking at her in this moment, caught her eyes fixed on his face with an expression he had never before seen there, and a wild hope sprang into his breast. Madge blushed deeply and rose to go. ‘Madge,’ said Dick, hurriedly, ‘before we join the others, tell me what dances I can have to-night?’ ‘ Whatever you want,’ she said in a low tone.

‘ Then keep me three waltzes and a polka, and the second lancers will you ?’ Madge could only nod her head to signify assent. She felt nearly sullocated with a crowd of conflicting emotions, and did not speak till they joined their party. ‘Why, here yon are I’ exclaimed Mr Harrison. ‘We were wondering where yon were. We think it is time to be oft now,’ and they left the race course. I hey had arranged to go to an hotel in the town for dinner, and to dress for the Carson’s ball there, then after wards the women folk were to drive and the men ride home, when all the gaiety was over. To the hotel they went, and at the dinner table—for they went down to the public room forthe funof the thing—discussed the events of the day.

Whilst she w», dressing for the ball Madge could not but face the fact that most probably that evening she would have to make two answers. To whom should she say • yes ?’ It was true that Arthur Clifford with his English talk and his good looks had from the first fascinated her, and for a time, nay, up to that very day, she had imagined herself in love with him, but a feeling within her told her that she had made a mistake. And then her thoughts reverted to Dick—Dick, whom she had known ever since she could remember. What a manly, yet tender, fellow he was ! and her eves shone with love as she thought of him. She had always despised those girls she had read of who fancied themselves in love and encouraged two men at once, yet what had she herself done? She buried her face in her hands.

‘Madge,’ said her mother, coming into her room, ‘are J'ou nearly ready, dear? I think the trap is waiting. You ook very nice to night, Madge,’ surveying her daughter complacently. Yes, the girl certainly looked very near perfection in her white silk gown with wreaths of pale pink roses, and a large bouquet ot natural flowers in her hand. Downstairs they went, and whilst the wraps were being put into the carriage Arthur managed to secure four dances from Madge. She, looking at her programme before she entered the ball room at the Carson’s, noticed half sadly that her card was nearly filled with the names of Dick and Arthur Clifford. A sit was such a warm night, the Carsons had thrown open all the windows opening on to the verandah, whilst lanterns dotted here and there about the delightfully cool garden reminded people, in case they should forget, that here was a peaceful retreat for the hot and weary.

Arthur had already had his third dance with Madge, and as yet had said nothing to her. His manner seemed a little abrupt, his conversation forced, and Madge felt rather glad when the dance was over. Dick, on the other hand, seemed brighter than for many a day. He was an excellent dancer, and was always recognised as one of the partners to be obtained When his last dance but one with Madge came he said to her,’ ‘ Do you mind if we sit this one out, Madge ?’

‘ Oh, no, I should like to,’ she hurriedly replied. *lt is really too hot to danee.’

Dick looked but said nothing, but led the way out into the garden, where he found a comfortable nook in the shape of two wicker chairs in a corner under a high laurel hedge. There they sat down. For the first few minutes neither spoke. Then Dick, leaning forward, said in a low, eager voice, ‘ Madge, am I wrong in thinking that you love me, or is your heart given to another? Oh, Madge, my darling, tell me quickly, do you love me?’ With a half suppressed cry, Madge sank back in her chair, and covering her face with her hands murmured, ‘ Oh. Dick, I think I must have loved you all the time !’ ‘ But now /’ he urged, drawing her hands gently away from her face. • Put your hands in mine and say, “ Dick, I love you.”’ With a half shy, half-proud movement, Madge laid her hands in those of the strong man before her, and in a low tremulous voice, whispered, ‘ Dick, I love you !’ Oh, such a proud and happy moment for Dick ! All his doubts and fears swept away in a second. Once more all seemed bright before him. For one brief moment the thought of Arthur Clifford flashed through his mind, but in the sweet lover’s talk which followed everything was forgotten but the girl at his side. Presently Madge spoke with a half sigh, * We must really go up to the house now, Dick ; the next dance has begun.’ * Oh, well, I suppose we must,’ regretfully assented Dick, ‘ but I have one more dance with you, darling,’ and they strolled back to the ball room.

By a strange fatality Madge’s next dance was with Clifford. As she entered the room she looked round, but did not see him anywhere. Whilst she was standing at the door one of the servants of the house approached and handed her a note. She at once recognised Clifford's writing. Hastily tearing open the envelope she read the following words, ‘ You love Dick and Dick loves you. God bless you both.—A.C.’ That was all, but whilst Madge Burnett stood reading those lines over and over again, what did they mean to their writer who was riding hard with set face to his whilom home at the Harrison’s farm ? He had made up his mind to leave New Zealand as soon as he could. Many a time had he pictured to himself his home with Madge in it. He had planned what they would do together. Upto this very night he had hoped, but as he had come up the garden walk at the Carson’s during a certain dance, he had caught sight of Madge and Dick in their corner, and their happiness had been the death blow to his. Arthur Clifford was a brave man, and, as such, would bear his defeat, but there are things in this world that seem almost too hard to bear and this was surely one of them. He reached the Harrison homestead at about one o’clock, and flinging himself into a chair in his own room tried to combat with his grief.

Towards dawn he heard Dick and his father come home. They paused outside his door and then he heard Dick say to his father, • I’ll just take a look in and see if he is here.’ The door opened, and Dick came in. One glance at his friend’s face was sufficient to show him what mental agony the man must have suffered. Yes, and he knew why. * Dick,’ said Arthur, in a strange, strained voice, * I have only known you three months, but it will be a long time before I shall find a man to take your place. I must be off tomorrow morning early. Yes ' —he went on seeing Dick was about to speak, ■ I could not bear to see her again. Yours is an honest, true heart, old man. I wish I could show as clean a record as you.’

* How did you know?’ Dick queried huskily. * Man, I saw it in your faces as I passed by you unseen. I’ll tell your father I am telegraphed for home.’ Dick, the strong man Dick, nearly sobbed aloud. A great lump would rise in his throat as he watched his friend moving slowly yet determinedly about the room making arrangements for a speedy departure. Arthur presently turned sharply around. ‘ Why on earth I am trying to make yon miserable with my own feelings I don’t know. Come, help me to cord this trunk, there’s a good chap.’

He succeeded in keeping up a tone of forced cheerfulness till everything was done, and then the two friends sat and talked. Arthur made Dick talk, and at last the latter, overcome by his own happiness, launched forth in eulogistic praise of Madge ami talked away, almost forgetting who hie listener was, till the morning sun, shining in on them

sitting there, showed Arthur’s face strangely pale and drawn, with set lines about the mouth.

* What a brute I am !’ exclaimed Dick, impetuously, • talking like this ’ * No, old chap,’ returned the other, gently, ‘ you are happy.’ Next morning saw Arthur Clifford speeding away in the train en route for Wellington, from whence he proposed to take a boat which would bring him to old England. Dick rode over to the Burnett’s looking rather grave, and after afternoon tea he and Madge strolled down the side avenue of pine trees. As they passed the large white gate Dick spoke. *Do you remember my coming here and talking to yon about Arthur Clifford, Madge ?’ Yes, Madge remembered well, and she listened sadly enough as Dick told her of Clifford’s sudden departure. They stood and watched the sun fade through pine branches. • What a lovely world this is, Dick !’ said Madge. * And some grand souls in it,’ thought Dick, but he did not speak aloud.